“Hello.”
Silence followed before the caller spoke. “Is Scar . . . uh Jaimee available?”
The man’s voice sounded familiar. After a moment, the memory clicked into place. “Is this Patch? Eli Croft here.”
“Hey, Eli. I was calling to check up on Scarlet’s injury and see how she’s doing.”
“Right now, I’m worried. Her phone and car are at her house, but she’s gone, and there’s blood on the bathroom sink. I don’t know what the hell happened to her.”
“A lot of blood?” The doctor’s voice was sharp.
“Just a small streak. We were supposed to meet, and she certainly wouldn’t have taken off and left Watson outside by himself.”
“Did you call the police?”
“I hadn’t got that far when her phone rang. Anyway, what would I tell them, that my girlfriend’s been gone for an hour? They’d think I was out of my mind.”
“After the situation with the contract killer, you have every reason to be worried. Has she done anything that would threaten the person who hired Legrand?”
“We found the key to the safe deposit box and recovered a notebook my grandfather kept with negative information about each family member. The killer was looking for that key after he shot Maureen, so whoever hired him knew about the notebook.”
“Did the information you recovered lead to a specific person?”
“Not exactly. We were going to call Luna to see if she could track down a few names that might provide some insight.”
“Did one of your relatives know Scarlet had the notebook?”
When Watson wandered into the room and leaned against his leg, Eli sat on the edge of the bed. “I don’t think so. I actually have the damn thing in my car, but I guess someone could have seen her 4Runner parked at the bank and got suspicious.”
“We need a place to start looking, so send Luna those names.”
“I don’t have her number.” Anxiety weighed heavily on him as he pulled out his own phone and tapped in the contact numbers for both Luna and Patch. “What the hell do I do now? I can’t just hang out and wait to hear from you. I’ll lose my mind.”
“Check with neighbors to see if anyone noticed an unfamiliar person near her home. The first step is to identify who might have taken Scarlet and then determine where she’s being held. Since she doesn’t have the notebook in her possession, whoever grabbed her will undoubtedly try to extract its location. You need to be extremely careful.”
“You mean they’ll torture her for information?” Eli’s stomach lurched.
“Don’t imagine grisly scenarios. I assume we’re dealing with amateurs, not professional extortionists, but desperation is a powerful motivator.”
“One of my relatives is responsible for everything that’s happened, from hiring the hitman to Jaimee going missing. I’m having a hard time wrapping my mind around that.”
“Hopefully Luna can come up with a suspect quickly.” Patch’s straightforward tone softened. “Scarlet knows what she’s doing. She’s very resourceful.”
“Maybe so, but I wish it was me the asshole had kidnapped. If she’s hurt—” His voice cracked.
“Send the names to Luna. I’ll fill her in on what’s happened.”
“Thanks, Patch. I’ll be in touch.” He hung up and laid Jaimee’s phone on the bed. When Watson shook the fur out of his eyes and looked up at him, he stroked the dog’s head. “We’ll find her, boy. Let’s go get the notebook.”
Eli snapped photos of the names listed on Vanna and Doyle’s pages, along with the article about the hit and run, and uploaded them to Luna. After hiding the notebook under pine needles at the edge of the woods—just in case someone came looking for it—he headed up the road toward the nearest neighbor’s house with Watson by his side. They’d almost reached the driveway when a silver truck pulled up alongside them.
The kid driving it leaned one arm on the open window. “You looking for someone?”
Eli nodded. “I’m Jaimee’s friend. She’s not at her cabin, and I’m not sure where she went. I don’t suppose you happened to see anyone parked in her yard earlier?”
“No, but I’ve been gone for a while. My mom sent me to the store after I got home from school.” He frowned. “There was an older guy in a gray pickup looking for her last week, but—”
“It wouldn’t be him.”
“A sweet red Porsche drove up our road earlier. I was going a little too fast and almost ran into him. I don’t know if he stopped at Jaimee’s place.”
Eli clenched his fists at his side. “Did you see who was driving?”
“Nope. The windows were tinted, and I was focused on not crashing.”
“Okay. Thanks for your help.”
“Maybe Jaimee is out in the woods looking for Watson. He ran off the other day. Looks like you found him, but she might not know he’s back.”
“I’ll yell for her. Thanks again.”
“Sure.” The kid sped off up the road.
Eli pulled out his phone as he headed back. Patch answered on the first ring.
“Did you learn something new?”
“A red Porsche was in Jaimee’s neighborhood earlier. My Cousin Doyle drives a red Porsche.”
“Then we’ll focus on him and try to track his phone. Any idea where he might have taken her?”
“Doyle lives in Boston. I can’t imagine he drove that far with a hostage.”
“Where is he staying in Hawthorne?”
“I’m not sure. His mother has been at the estate, but I don’t know how involved Vanna is in this whole situation, so I don’t want to ask her. I’ll give his sister a call to see if she knows.”
“Notify the detective in charge of Mrs. Croft’s murder once you have a location. Confronting this man on your own isn’t a good idea. He may be your cousin, but he’s obviously past caring whom he hurts.”
“I’ll do that. Thanks, Patch.”
“I hope you won’t need the Counterstrike team, but I’ll contact our chopper pilot to be on standby, just in case. We can get up there pretty quickly.”
“Good to know. I’ll be in touch.” Eli disconnected and called Reba.
“Hi, Eli. I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.” His cousin’s cheerful voice came over the line. “What’s up? My plane will be boarding shortly.”
“Actually, I was looking for Doyle. He’s not answering his cell, and I need to ask him something. Do you know where he’s staying in Hawthorne? I saw his car earlier, so he hasn’t left town yet.”
“He mentioned the bed and breakfast has great waffles, so my guess is he’s sleeping there. He didn’t want to hang out at the estate with Mom and Stephen’s family. I would think they’ve all left by now, though, so he might have gone back there.”
“Okay, I’ll check both places.”
“They’re calling my flight to board. I’ll see you at my wedding later this summer.”
“Sure. Have a safe trip home.” He disconnected and looked down at Watson when they reached Jaimee’s yard. “No way in hell did he take her to the bed and breakfast. If everyone left the estate, that would be a better option, but it still seems a little risky.”
Watson cocked his head and let out a sharp bark.
“No, you’re not coming with me.” He put the dog inside the house and gave him a treat, then checked to make sure the house key was still in his pocket before locking the door.
The latch didn’t click easily into place. Bending, he studied the knob. Tiny scratches marred the chrome around the keyhole. He closed his eyes for a moment as a memory of one of the few times he’d heard his grandpa swear filtered through his mind. He’d misplaced the keys to the family’s hunting cabin where he’d taken his three grandsons the weekend after Thanksgiving. The brutal wind had chilled Eli through his jacket as they all stood in the yard while his grandpa searched through his bag a second time for the keys.
“Don’t worry about it, Grandpa. I can open it.” His cousin, who could
n’t have been more than eleven or twelve at the time, had pulled a couple of slender picks from his jacket pocket and jimmied the door open in under thirty seconds. It was one of the few times Eli had been impressed with the younger boy.
Not Doyle. Webb. Had he taken his brother’s Porsche?
“I’m going to kill him.” Spinning on his heel, he ran to his car, started the engine, and reversed down the driveway with a shower of gravel. He’d check the estate first. If Webb wasn’t there, he’d head to his home, which was less than an hour away.
“Bastard.” Teeth clenched, he sped toward town. He found it hard to believe his drunken cousin was the guilty party, mostly because he’d never thought Webb was all that bright. He sure as hell wasn’t afraid of him, and he was a little surprised Jaimee hadn’t already found a way to escape.
Webb’s black pickup—still covered in mud—was parked in the driveway. His cousin was standing on the lawn with a beer in his hand and his cell phone pressed to his ear. When Eli turned off the road and parked behind the truck, Webb glanced over his shoulder and waved.
What the hell?
For someone holding a woman hostage, his attitude was certainly relaxed. Eli got out of his car and approached slowly, eyeing his cousin’s paunchy gut beneath his T-shirt. He didn’t appear to have a weapon concealed, but he wasn’t taking any chances. While both Webb’s hands were still occupied, he sprinted across the grass and tackled him.
The beer and phone both went flying.
His cousin hit the ground with a thump, and a whoosh of breath escaped him. Grabbing both his wrists, Eli held them against the ground while he straddled the bigger man.
“Is Jaimee inside, asshole? I ought to kill you right now!”
“Get off me! What the hell’s wrong with you!” Webb gasped for air.
“Is Jaimee in the house? Did you hurt her?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He made no effort to struggle. “Have you lost your mind? Get off me!”
Doubt began to creep in as his cousin breathed hard and swore at him, his words slurring a little. The man was half-drunk.
“Someone broke into her house. There’s blood on the sink, and she’s missing.”
“Are you talking about the dog walker? Why the hell would I bother her?”
“Because we opened the safe deposit box where grandpa stashed all his incriminating notes. Does a hit and run three years ago sound familiar?”
The color leached out of Webb’s face. “Grandpa said he’d keep quiet about what he knew if I got help. I sobered up . . . for a while, anyway.”
Releasing Webb’s wrists, Eli stood. The other man rolled over onto his back and stared up at the sky.
“Get up. You’re coming with me while I search the house.”
“I’d rather just stay here.”
“I don’t give a shit. On your feet, Webb.”
After a moment, the younger man heaved himself upright. “I’ll cooperate. Whatever’s going on, you look plenty pissed. I’ve got no beef with you other than the fact that you just flattened me.”
Eli only nodded and took a firm grip on his arm. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t find Jaimee inside, but he had to make sure. Fifteen minutes later, he left the house with Webb in tow to check the garage and stopped abruptly. Vanna’s Mercedes was parked in the empty bay.
“Where’s your mom?”
“She went somewhere with Doyle a couple of hours ago. I mentioned seeing the redhead with Watson at the bank, and she came unglued. Doyle was here, and he asked her why she was freaking out. I headed into the kitchen for a beer and didn’t hear her response. Then the two of them left.” Webb leaned against the workbench and stared at Eli. “What the hell is going on?”
“You really didn’t pick the lock on Jaimee’s cabin door?”
“I told you I didn’t. Maybe Doyle jimmied it. He’s the one who taught me that particular skill when we were kids. It came in handy when we wanted to get into Mom’s liquor cabinet.”
A chill coursed through him, and Eli shivered. “Are you sure you don’t know where they went?”
“Not a clue.”
“I want you to call your mom and ask her where she is. You aren’t going to tell her I’m with you, or I swear to God, I’ll kill you.”
Webb’s eyes narrowed, but he finally nodded. “My phone is still on the grass where you tackled me.”
“Let’s go get it.”
When they reached the lawn, Webb swooped down and grabbed his beer bottle. After chugging what was left, he picked up his phone. “What if she asks questions?”
“Tell her you want to know if she’s coming back to cook dinner. Be convincing and put the call on speaker.”
His cousin tapped the screen a few times, and the phone rang.
“Webb, the reception here is crappy. What do you need?” Vanna asked, her voice fading.
“Where’d you take off to? Are you cooking tonight?”
“No, I’m not. Feed yourself. You’re an adult, for heaven’s sake.”
Eli nudged him, and Webb grimaced. “Where did you say you went?”
“Your grandpa’s hunting cabin. Don’t ask why. I’ll talk to you when I get back.”
“Fine. Whatever. Bye, Mom.”
“Give me your phone.” Eli held out his hand. “And your keys.”
“Are you shitting me?”
“Just do it.”
Webb slapped the phone onto his palm and fished his car keys out of his pocket.
Eli took them and ran back to the utility box on the corner of the garage. After examining the panel, he ripped the phone line out of the connection and then hurried toward his car.
“What, you aren’t planning to tie me up?” Webb’s voice dripped sarcasm.
“Don’t tempt me.”
“You’re freaking crazy.”
Ignoring his cousin, he climbed into his car and started the engine. A glance in the rearview mirror as he turned around showed Webb already headed toward the house. Eli wasn’t too worried he’d be motivated to walk somewhere to find a phone. With any luck, he’d be passed out drunk in short order.
Right now, all that mattered was reaching Jaimee. Unlike Webb, Doyle had a temper when he was angry. Eli just prayed he wouldn’t be too late.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Jaimee sat on a straight-back chair with her hands tied behind her. When her captor stepped a little too close, she kicked out blindly, nailing him in the leg.
“Bitch!”
She expected the coming blow but couldn’t avoid it. Even through the pillowcase covering her head—one of her own based on the scent of the detergent—the slap to her cheek stung like fire.
“I should have left you trussed up like a chicken ready for the roaster, but I didn’t want to carry you.”
She’d regained consciousness in the back seat of a car with her ribs aching, her head throbbing, and her hands and feet tied. Though her brain had been a little foggy, she guessed they’d travelled for close to an hour before reaching their destination. Birds were chirping, and the day had still held the warmth of late afternoon when the male half of the pair had dragged her out of the car and prodded her up steps to some sort of structure.
“I bet she’d talk if you broke her wrist or her kneecap or something.” The woman’s voice rose. “The whole point of this was to recover whatever was in that damn safe deposit box. If she won’t tell us where she stashed it—”
“Oh, I’ll make sure she talks.”
Jaimee clamped her lips together. Silence was her best defense. Her tolerance for pain was high, and she was confident in her ability to hold out indefinitely. Until she managed to escape. Or someone found her.
Surely Eli has called Counterstrike by now.
Her heart ached, knowing exactly what he was going through. The gut-clenching worry and feeling of utter helplessness. An all-encompassing, frantic need to search. She only hoped the two who’d grabbed her had left some kind of clue behind, giving
him and her old team a place to start looking.
“I searched her cabin and car thoroughly and found nothing, including the safe deposit box key. I’m worried she passed your grandfather’s file off to someone else.” The woman sounded close to breaking.
“If she’d taken evidence to the police, wouldn’t your asshole lover have contacted you by now?” The man who’d hit her spoke sharply. “Surely a report would have been filed.”
“Ex-lover. With what I know about him, it’s not in his best interests for either of us to be arrested.” The woman, obviously Vanna Shreve, sounded far from certain she believed what she was saying. “Maybe I should call him, just to make sure.”
“You do that. In the meantime, I’ll make this bitch talk. If you’re feeling squeamish, go outside.”
“God. I thought my moral compass was screwed up. You remind me of your father.”
“Dad was a mean son of a bitch, but smooth, very smooth.”
“The reason I divorced him—and married him in the first place.” Footsteps crossed the floor, and a door creaked open. “I’ll call Dalton. Maybe he’ll have interrogation suggestions that will help.” The door slammed shut with a thump.
Jaimee felt the man’s presence, closer to her than before. The faint scent of cigarette smoke reached her nostrils. Eli had described his Cousin Webb as an alcoholic. This man seemed bright enough, and she didn’t doubt he had a mean streak. Nervous excitement practically oozed from him. Vanna’s other son, Doyle, she assumed. The trick would be to keep him off-guard since appealing to any sense of decency would be a waste of breath.
A swift, outward kick just grazed his leg. He jumped back and laughed softly. “I can see why Eli was all smiles the last time I saw him. You must be feisty in bed.” With a hard jerk, he pulled the pillowcase off her head.
She blinked to clear her vision. The room where she was being held was small and rustic with knotty pine paneling, a woodstove in one corner, and a wall of trees visible through the window above a gateleg table. An antique musket was mounted above the door, and fishing poles stood in a barrel beside a box of tackle.
Fatal Encounter (A Counterstrike Novel Book 1) Page 26
